


Sublimity

by DotColorful



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Imperial Events, Luke Skywalker Needs A Hug, One Shot, Psychological Trauma, Sad Luke Skywalker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:21:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28648959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DotColorful/pseuds/DotColorful
Summary: After the confrontation on Bespin, Luke has to face Vader again - this time, on Naboo during the Empire Day celebrations. Though reluctant at first, father and son soon begin sharing their deepest feelings and desires, and try to honor the woman who had loved them.Post-ESB AU One-Shot.
Relationships: Luke Skywalker & Darth Vader
Comments: 33
Kudos: 151
Collections: 2020 Star Wars Luke & Vader Winter Exchange





	Sublimity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Severnlight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severnlight/gifts).



> Sooooo this one is for you, Sev! I really hope you enjoy it! I must admit, writing this was really fun because it's the first fic I've ever written that has ABSOLUTELY NO WHUMP IN IT. You requested Vader "on the softer side of things, where he cares deeply for his son," and I hope I managed to deliver it😂 I'm so excited for you to read it! 
> 
> Честит ~~тревожен~~ Люк/Вейдър ден!
> 
> And of course, huge thanks to my Beta [Sorayume](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sorayume)

Luke had never thought that Mandalorian armour would be so uncomfortable.

Although it was undoubtedly the _slightest_ of all the concerns he had about the mission, it still made his stomach clench uneasily whenever his body ached underneath the armour’s weight. It had only been a few months since Bespin, and he still panicked at the slightest reminder of that feral encounter. He was unable to help it; the Mandalorian helmet, though much different in design, still reminded him of Darth Vader’s mask.

His **father’s** mask.

“You alright there, Luke?”

Luke turned as he heard Wedge approach him. His face, mostly hidden by a Skiff Guard helmet, still betrayed the uneasiness that Luke could sense from his friend.

Not that he was calm himself.

It was Empire Day, the anniversary of Emperor Palpatine rising to power, and the day that most Rebels wished would never be celebrated again. Even before joining the Alliance, Luke had never really participated in the event - Tatooine was far too remote for the Imperials to even try and mark their presence there.

But that was far different on Naboo, the planet where Luke and Wedge were stationed now. It was the center of all the celebrations...

...and it was exactly why Luke and Wedge had come here.

The mission was simple. All they had to do was to intercept intel from their Imperial contact, a young Togruta named Vora, and then return to their base. Luke didn’t know what the data was for, but he knew how important it was for the Alliance; he couldn’t fail.

They had come here in disguise; Tatooine had turned out to be a great place to find the old set of Mandalorian armour that Luke now wore. He had painted it to resemble Boba Fett’s; one of the Rebellion's spies had confirmed that the bounty hunter would not be present during the Naboo celebrations, and so it would be fairly safe for Luke to impersonate him.

The skiff guard style mask Wedge wore was perhaps not as reliable of a disguise as Luke’s was, but it didn’t worry them too much - the crowd was big enough to let their presence go fairly unnoticed.

Luke looked at Wedge who was still waiting for his response. “I’m fine,” he finally muttered, his eyes slipping away to look at the military parade that had just started in the city center.

“Alright then,” Wedge said. “I’m gonna go in, try to find Vora. You watch out for any trouble, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Luke responded. “Good luck.”

As Wedge walked away and disappeared in the crowd, Luke couldn’t help but sigh with disappointment. He was still a bit bitter that the Alliance would not let him go on any of the more risky missions; even after Mon Mothma and General Madine had relented, Leia had still been reluctant to allow him to go. Luke was grateful for her concern - he wasn’t going to turn it down, not when he was still traumatized by the events of Bespin - but he still yearned for going back to his usual tasks in the Rebellion. He desperately needed a distraction, something to take his mind off the terrible truth - _...but was it even a truth?_ \- that he’d learned.

It was this argument that had finally made Leia relent and allow him to go on this mission. After all, it was simple enough for him to be trusted with it, yet Luke knew the Princess still had doubts about his ability to control his emotions after his encounter.

Not that Luke thought any different. He’d been a mess ever since his duel on Cloud City.

Perhaps this was why it was Wedge who was supposed to do all the work, while Luke was simply there to make sure everything went smoothly. After all, it was something he _knew_ he could handle - his connection to the Force would help him sense any possible danger.

But of course, the Force kept screaming _danger_ at him all the time, and Luke knew exactly why:

At the end of the alley where the parade took place was a large platform; it was where almost all of the most important figures of the Empire were stationed. From where Luke stood, his face obscured by the mask, he could perfectly see the one person he’d been both dreading and longing to see.

His father. Darth Vader.

The Sith stood next to the Emperor’s throne, watching over the parade. Even now, standing in the sunlight with no ruby blade in his hand, the sight of him still sent shivers down Luke’s spine. He was as impassive and frightening as ever. Involuntary, Luke felt his fear spike as the sound of his own scream upon losing his hand ricocheted in his mind.

His emotions were kept in check well, buried deep down. Luke was sure the man would not be able to sense him - he had shielded his presence well, made sure that he would not be discovered.

Now, standing outside the parade, his face hidden by the Mandalorian helmet, he had a perfect opportunity to study the man who claimed to be his father.

Vader looked… _calm_ , in a way - or maybe it was because there was no lightsaber in his hand. It felt wrong, somehow, to see him simply standing, though that did not mean Luke was any less terrified. The man didn’t know his son was here, but it didn’t matter - Luke couldn’t help but panic at the very thought of Vader discovering his presence.

Would his father hurt him like the last time? Mutilate and brutalize him in front of the crowd?

_Make the Jedi pay for his crimes?_

A sudden bump shook him out of his thoughts. He had run into an Imperial officer, he realized, and it was only then that he noticed he had subconsciously started moving towards where his father stood.

“Watch it!” The Imperial cursed, but Luke paid him no heed. He mumbled a quiet ‘sorry’, unconcerned with how unfitting this was for a bounty hunter, and simply continued moving forward until he reached the edge of the platform.

His father looked… _majestic_ in this setting. Peaceful, even - terrifying, but peaceful. His cape was waving slightly with the currents of the wind, and the sunlight reflecting in his mask made him seem like--

_\--like the man who had held his saber to your chin--_

_\--like the man who had almost killed you--_

\--like underneath that suit, he was human after all. A simple man who had chosen the wrong path, a man who had committed the unforgivable…

...but this was his father, and Luke longed to run up to him, to grasp his hand and take him away from this planet, from this Imperial parade and the Emperor who’d made him believe that the Dark Side was the only path. He wanted to talk to him, wanted to know his biggest fears and secrets, his dreams and hopes, wanted to strip away the armor and see the man who had sired him with his own eyes.

His fingers were tingling already with the need to reach out, small terrors going through his toes urging him to run…

...but he couldn’t.

This was a Rebel mission, and he had a job to do. He didn’t come here to wallow in self-pity over his lost childhood; he had friends who counted on him, people who needed him to do his job.

And still, he couldn’t squash the longing in his heart.

The parade continued, though Luke paid it no attention. His focus was still solely on his father. His eyes drank in the sight of him, watching intensively from behind the lenses of the Mandalorian helmet. _This is your father_ , the Force whispered to him, _this is the man who has sired you. The man who you have always wanted to know._

_He is right here, right before you._

“Fett,” he heard someone say suddenly, and it took him a second to realize it was him who the person meant. He turned around, reluctant to stop watching his father, only to see a young Imperial with a hesitant look on his face.

“Yes?” He asked, trying to mimic the bounty hunter’s emotionless tone of voice.

“Uh, I’ve been asked to tell you that Lord Vader commands your presence,” the officer responded, looking at him uncertainly. It was a new experience for Luke - to have people watch him with fear. His abilities, although much greater than Fett’s, were not always apparent when looking at his rather frail form. The Mandalorian armor, however, commanded respect, and Luke couldn’t help but smile at the Imperial’s oblivious assumption.

His satisfaction was quickly squashed though as he understood the meaning of the man’s words.

_Darth Vader commanded his presence._

Cold fear gripped Luke’s heart. Could that mean his father knew who he was? Was this a trap?

Even if it was, there was nothing he could do about it. He needed to play along if the Alliance was to get the intel they needed.

“Very well. Lead the way,” he responded to the Imperial. The request was obsolete; he knew exactly where the Dark Lord stood. But somehow, _though he knew it was childish and he hated himself for that_ , he wanted the Imperial to go with him.

...he didn’t want to face his father alone.

The Imperial nodded and started moving forward; Luke followed him closely behind. It didn’t take long to reach the platform where his father and the Emperor stood - or maybe it did, but Luke was too focused on trying to control the wild beating of his heart to notice.

The parade had finished by now, and people started to disperse, gathering up into individual groups. The sound of light chatter filled the air; Luke watched in surprise as Imperials mixed with civilians, engaging in lively conversation. It almost looked… peaceful. The air of oppression that had always surrounded the Empire was suddenly gone; it was joy and laughter that could now be felt. It reminded Luke of his Aunt’s tales of the Republic, her stories of unity and peace.

On the platform, Luke could see commotion as well. A group of Empire’s highest-ranking officials was gathered close to the edge, engaging in what looked like a friendly conversion. Behind them, a male Twi’lek was talking to an Imperial admiral Luke now recognized as Piett. The Twi’lek looked familiar too; it didn’t take long before Luke realized with dismay that it was Jabba the Hutt’s majordomo, Bib Fortuna. He remembered General Madine talking about the Imperial negotiations with the Hutts, and bitterly understood that this was probably the reason why Fortuna was here.

Vader stood on the other side of the platform, still at the Emperor’s side. Both were standing now, talking to three cloaked figures Luke assumed were Palpatine’s advisors.

The Imperial officer who had been leading him stepped onto the platform; Luke followed closely behind. He saw Vader's hamlet turn around slightly as they approached.

“Forgive me,” he heard his father say as he turned back to his interlocutors. “I am needed elsewhere.”

“But of course, Lord Vader,” the Emperor responded, giving his protege a sickly smile. “Go. We shall no longer require your presence.”

Vader gave a curt nod and turned away; Luke watched him with a mixture of astonishment and pity, surprised at the _submissiveness_ of the man who had been haunting him for years. The whole Galaxy feared him - and rightfully so - but now, with his head bowed before the Emperor and his advisors, he looked almost…

_...sad._

But the feeling was soon gone as the Sith Lord approached them, as frightening and impassive as ever, his cloak swirling behind him threateningly. A black cloud.

“Lord Vader,” Luke said with as much confidence as he could muster, trying not to think about the wild, yes, _excruciatingly_ wild beating of his heart.

“Bounty hunter,” the Sith responded, walking up to Luke from his spot next to the Emperor. “I believe congratulations are in place.”

_Congratulations?_

“My Lord?” he questioned, trying to hide the surprise in his voice.

“Ah, modest as always,” Vader responded, his voice dripping with sarcasm; Luke cursed himself internally for not pretending that he knew what the Sith was talking about. “But surely you know your services have been of great value to the Empire.”

This was dangerous. Vader sounded far too _pleased_ , too willing to congratulate Fett for whatever he had done, and it felt wrong.

“I did the job I was paid for,” Luke said matter-of-factly, hoping it was a reaction appropriate for a bounty hunter.

There was a wave of amusement coming from the Dark Lord, and Luke shifted uneasily. “Indeed you did, bounty hunter.”

There was a moment of silence as neither Luke nor Vader spoke. The Mandalorian armor suddenly felt heavy on Luke’s arms and he shifted, trying to evenly distribute its weight.

_But he knew it was not the weight of the armor that was bringing him down._

“Excuse me, my Lord, but I must go,” he said suddenly, unable to stand before his father any longer, unable to shield the maelstrom of emotion in his head. “I have a... client waiting.”

With that, he turned on his feet, aware of how unnatural he sounded but unable to care. His heart was beating widely in his chest and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to calm it down. Blackness was already climbing at the edges of his vision and he felt nauseous.

_No_ , he thought desperately, _you cannot panic now!_

He started walking away from the Dark Lord, desperate to get away before he lost control--

_“Luke Skywalker.”_

_No._

He stopped abruptly, his limbs freezing in fear. _He knew, his father knew, it was all over now--_

He couldn't stand another confrontation--

He tried to assume some calm; he failed. His heart was beating so loudly he was sure Vader could hear it.

“Yes?” He asked eventually, turning on his feet to face Vader again. To his surprise, his voice came out much calmer than he’d anticipated.

Vader tilted his head.

“The name of the pilot who destroyed the Death Star,” he explained. Then, as if sensing Luke’s confusion - _which was impossible, he’d made sure his shields were held tight_ \- he added, “You seemed to be unaware of why I was congratulating you. I am merely trying to alleviate that confusion.”

A sigh of relief escaped Luke at those words. He’d thought that Vader had found out who he was, that he had addressed him by his name to make Luke aware that his cover had been blown… But he’d been mistaken; Vader had simply tried to congratulate him - _Fett_ \- for providing the Empire with its biggest enemy’s name.

“The identity of the pilot who had destroyed the Death Star was of great importance to the Empire,” his father continued. “Though I’m afraid Skywalker has once again escaped justice.”

_Yes, he had, for he had jumped from that gantry on Bespin, choosing death over eternal allegiance to the Dark--_

“There was no occasion to publicly congratulate you for your services before,” Vader continued. “You are rarely a guest at the Empire’s most important conventions.”

Luke shifted, uneasily. “Yes.”

Suddenly, his eyes caught a glimpse of Wedge who stood at the front of the crown, staring at him urgently.

“Excuse me, Lord Vader,” Luke said immediately, already taking a step backward. “I really must go.”

To his relief, the Dark Lord nodded. “Very well, then,” he said, his voice still not betraying a single emotion. “I am pleased to have talked to you, Fett.”

Luke walked away briskly, reaching Wedge before he could give Vader’s pleasant manner of speaking more thought. His friend gestured at him as he saw Luke come near, signaling the Jedi to move further into the crowd.

“Come,” he whispered to Luke. “Too many people can see us at the front.”

“Where’s Vora?” Luke asked urgently once they were out of Vader’s view.

“Uh, about that…” Wedge responded hesitantly, making Luke’s stomach clench in unease. “We have a slight problem.”

“And that is…?”

Wedge looked at him bitterly. “She left me a message,” he said, pointing at his comm. “She’s just arrived, but Vader requires her presence. He wants to negotiate something with her, apparently.”

“Kriff,” Luke cursed, looking in Vader’s direction. Sure enough, he saw the Togruta approach the Dark Lord where he stood.

“We won’t be able to get the intel until she’s alone; the data can be only transferred from her ship.”

Luke sighed; he knew everything was going too well to work. “It’s alright,” he said, looking back to Wedge. “I’ll distract Vader and try to get him away. You go with Vora and get the intel.”

“Thanks, Luke,” Wedge smiled at him, his relief obvious even without the Force. “Just be careful.”

“I will,” Luke assured him. “It’s gonna be fine.”

Or, at least, he hoped it would.

***

_“Is there anything you require, Fett?”_

The dark lenses of his father’s mask stared at him intensively; it took all Luke’s willpower not to flinch.

Thirty minutes had passed since he had talked to Wedge - Luke had decided it would be best if he waited for a little before coming to Vader again. He had told Wedge it was so that the Dark Lord did not get suspicious, but deep inside, he knew the true reason was different.

_He needed time to calm down before he talked to his father again._

Now, however, he was standing before Vader once more, stomach clenching in uneasiness as he felt his father’s anger rise at his conversation with Vora being interrupted. The Togruta looked at him ruefully, silently apologizing for disrupting their plan.

_It’s alright,_ Luke sent silently, knowing she couldn’t hear him. _It’s not your fault._

And then, gathering all his confidence, he turned back to the Dark Lord.

“I have a… _business matter_ that I would like to discuss with you,” he said uncertainly. All too aware of how his use of pleasantries could blow his cover in an instant, he tightened his shields, making sure his father could not read his mind. “If you would come with me, my Lord.”

Something like a chuckle escaped the Dark Lord.

“I am sure this matter need not be discussed elsewhere,” he replied. Luke swallowed, his mind spinning with what to do. How was he going to get Vader away from here?

“I… have an asset of value,” he said eventually, hoping he sounded convincing. “On my ship.”

“And what asset would that be, Bounty Hunter?” Again, amusement tinted Vader’s words.

“Cargo, my Lord,” he responded. His hands were beginning to sweat underneath his gloves; he was grateful the armor hid his body from the Dark Lord’s view, making him unable to see the unease on his face.

“One you’ve been pursuing for a long time,” he added when the Sith failed to react. His gaze slipped to the Vora who shot him an urgent look. He flinched underneath the helmet, unable to stop the fear that began to fill his mind. They had to get the intel as soon as possible before the Empire discovered who they were. Luke _needed_ to get Vader away.

Again, his gaze turned to his father.

_Please believe it, please come with me…_

_There’s no way he’s going to buy this._

Another chuckle escaped the Dark Lord. “Oh?”

Luke’s heart turned cold. Of course, Vader didn’t believe it, he had seen through it…

But Luke had shielded well. His father couldn’t possibly know.

He breathed in relief as Vader’s next words confirmed his thoughts.

“Very well, Bounty Hunter. Lead the way,” he said and Luke sighed in relief. Perhaps _it was_ going to work.

Without a word, he started moving forward, looking over his shoulder to see if Vader was following him. They marched in silence; his father’s strides were long, but still, he stayed behind his son. Luke could feel the Sith’s eyes trained on his back, could feel the Dark Side of the Force swirling around him in anticipation.

He forced himself to remain calm, to appear as unphased as Fett would. Squaring his shoulders and raising his head, he continued moving forward. Vader’s steps were heavy, rhythmically resounding in the corridor that they have now stepped into. The noises of celebration died little by little, muffled by the distance they were crossing, and Luke couldn’t help but wonder how far he would be able to get before Vader realized that he didn’t actually know where he was going.

_There was no cargo._

_There was no ship._

Or, there was, but it was certainly not Slave I, Fett’s infamous craft. Wedge and himself had come here in their X-wings and landed far enough away to remain unnoticed by Imperial patrols.

They continued walking in silence. The noise of the military parade was almost impossible to hear from here, and Luke knew he was running out of time. But at that moment, he caught sight of a long bridge across from them, leading to a landing pad. There was a ship there as well, though Luke knew it was not his. Still, he could act as if this was his craft - after all, Fett might have chosen a different spaceship for... _safety_. If he just looked confident and convincing enough…

“Quite a distance from the celebration, _wouldn’t you say_ , Fett?”

Luke had to hide his flinch at those words, had to continue walking forward without betraying the distress Vader’s words were causing him.

“I am known not to be fond of such events, Lord Vader,” he replied, cringing internally at how weak this excuse sounded.

They had reached the bridge now and Luke stepped onto it, making sure that his father was still following behind. Wedge… Wedge needed at least a few more minutes, and he needed to keep Vader occupied for a bit more time...

He had reached around in the middle of the bridge when he realized he could no longer hear the Dark Lord’s footsteps.

His heart skipped a beat as cold dread washed over him. His back was turned, so he couldn’t see his father, but he could _feel_ him standing there nonetheless. He was waiting for Luke to react in some way, and Luke did, stopping in his tracks. Slowly squaring his shoulders, he raised his chin with the confidence he didn’t actually feel. Ignoring the wild beating of his heart in his chest, the fear of his cover being blown combined with the _thrill_ of being with his father, he spoke softly.

“So you know.”

For a moment, it was only quiet. And then…

“You have hidden your presence well, Luke,” came the quiet response.

His body tensed at his father’s words. They were tinted with... _pride_ , though Luke refused to acknowledge it, refused to think about what that meant.

“Then how did you realize?” He asked quietly, keeping all emotions from his voice. He knew he had shielded well; Vader should not have been able to sense him - and he hadn’t. Yet his father knew who he was, knew it wasn’t Bobba Fett underneath the Mandalorian helmet.

“A father will always sense his son.”

This time Luke wasn’t able to hide the flinch that shook his small frame. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to calm his heart’s wild fluttering.

He was glad his father couldn’t see his face.

So it was true. This link, this bond that he had felt ever since the duel in Cloud City… it had been real. For months Luke had hated it and yet loved it, almost needing it to survive. He would deny its existence fiercely, would try to convince himself that _it wasn’t true_ … And then, he would reach out through the Force in his sleep, trying to grasp the bond with his father like a child seeking comfort. Many nights, he would wake up suddenly from terrible nightmares of searing pain in his arm and Bespin winds roaring in his ears... And every time, he would reach out blindly, clinging to the bond at the back of his mind, waiting for the waves of comfort that washed over him every time he touched it.

But… he’d been sure it wasn’t real. He’d been sure it was just his imagination ---

“So…” he said softly, already knowing the answer to what he was about to say. “You’ve felt it.”

And he knew Vader understood what he was talking about; that it was his pain and longing Luke had referred to.

“I have,” his father confirmed, and Luke could hear him take a step forward, move even closer to where his son stood. “And you have not been well since our last… _confrontation_.”

There was… reluctance coming from the Dark Lord as if he did not want to admit noticing something so _personal_. And yet, his father’s voice was still as commanding, still as dark as ever, and Luke simply couldn’t believe Vader’s sudden concern for his well-being.

“I have not,” he admitted, as there was _so much_ hidden behind that statement. Had Vader felt it all? Had he sensed all those times when Luke had cried, unable to stop the tears as he was reminded of his heritage? The panic attacks, the fear he felt every time the Rebels extended their hands to him in a friendly gesture, but all he could think about was ** _come with me, rule the galaxy..._**

“You are confused, my son. I can help you.”

He sighed at that, knowing what the offer meant, knowing what he would have to do in exchange.

Tilting his head, he reached for the Mandalorian helmet and grasped it firmly with both hands, lifting it. His eyes stung as the bright light hit his retinas, his nostrils widening as he took in a breath of fresh air.

Then, slowly, he turned around, finally facing his father.

“I can’t come with you,” he whispered.

He watched as the Dark Lord straightened, even more, hooking his thumbs into his belt.

“I don’t think you have a choice, my son,” he said emotionlessly, though Luke could feel the dark satisfaction in his voice. It terrified him, chilled him to the core, but he refused to show it; he would lose any chance of getting out of this situation if he showed any weakness now.

Though he would probably not have any chance of escaping anyway.

What Vader said next only confirmed his fears.

“My men are stationed all over the planet; you are surrounded. _And you don’t have your weapon.”_

“I can still fight,” Luke bit back, knowing how weak, how untrue his response was.

“Not against me.”

Involuntary, Luke took a step back, unbidden memories of Bespin once again flooding his mind. No, he could not fight Vader, because the last time he had, he had ended up at his father’s feet, waiting for the killing blow…

_Come with me, it is your destiny!_

“You are terrified.”

Luke didn’t say anything, _couldn’t say anything_ at those words. His fear, his longing, _the turmoil_ he’d felt ever since he’d learned the truth… it was too much. The image before his eyes became blurry; Luke didn’t know whether it was from his panic or the tears that were threatening to spill, but suddenly he couldn’t see anything except the gloved hand that was now reaching for him--

He took another step back, his left arm flailing up in an attempt to defend himself. Eyes squeezed shut, his head turned away, he waited for his father to attack him, just like he had on Bespin. He could hear Vader stepping closer, until he was right in front of Luke, and still, he was too afraid to look. The gloved hand closed around his left wrist, the one he had raised in a futile attempt to protect himself…

...and then he felt his father gently lower his arm down, taking it away from his face. He opened his eyes then, still uncertain and scared. He couldn't help but blush as he felt the burning humiliation of having reacted so violently. He didn’t want Vader to know how much Bespin had affected him; he didn’t want to appear as the weak son his father must think him to be.

Quietly, he looked right into his father’s eyes, through the red lens covering them.

“You haven’t given me any reason to feel otherwise,” he whispered.

“No,” Vader admitted, his voice bitter. “I haven't.”

The gloved hand unwrapped itself from Luke’s wrist and immediately, he snatched his arm back. He took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure, forcing that well-trained stoic expression onto his face he had been practicing.

“I’m sorry. I can’t come with you…” he said, before slowly adding, “...father.”

There it was - he’d said it. He couldn’t take it back now.

“As I said,” Vader repeated, and Luke felt disappointment fill his heart. He’d hoped… he’d hoped his father would somehow react to his choice of words, would somehow… appreciate the effort that uttering it took him. “...there is little choice you have in that matter.”

Luke shook his head sorrowfully. “And I’ve already told you,” he said, mimicking Vader’s patronizing tone of voice. “I won’t come.”

His father chuckled at that, and Luke hated the sound, hated the dripping sarcasm and satisfaction, the confidence of a man who knew he had already won--

“I know your friend is here,” his father said, causing Luke to flinch involuntarily. “And you need me here so that he can get information from your contact.”

Luke’s brows furrowed. How? How did Vader know? He’d shielded so well, he’d hidden his intentions…

“You are not a fool, my son,” Vader continued, further aggravating Luke’s panic. “You know what choice you have.”

_Yes_ , Luke thought bitterly. _He did._ And he knew he would have to agree, no matter how terrible this choice seemed.

“You want me to come with you,” he whispered. “In exchange for my friend.”

Vader didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to - Luke already knew this was what his father wanted. He looked around frantically, as if he could find a way out of this, something that would allow him to escape capture and save Wedge…

But there wasn’t any other way. His father had planned this too well. Luke wouldn’t be able to save Wedge, not when there were Imperials stationed all over the planet. Even if he did, that would mean the end of their mission - and Luke couldn’t let that happen. The Alliance _needed_ this intel, and if getting it meant that he had to go with his father… then he had to agree.

“Come,” Vader said, and there was something almost _apologetic_ in his tone, as if his father was sorry this had to happen this way.

Luke nodded, resigned, and walked up to the Dark Lord. He watched quietly as his father snapped a pair of binders around his wrists, stood silently as a gloved hand wrapped around his arm and pulled him forwards. Luke didn’t resist; he simply allowed himself to be marched towards the ship at the end of the platform. The ship that, he now realized, was Vader’s own.

_He had willingly walked into a trap._

They marched silently, nearing his father’s ship more and more. Luke tried not to think of what was awaiting him, tried not to imagine all the things that he would undergo in Vader’s custody. Instead, he focused on the tranquility of the fields around him, on the peaceful atmosphere of Naboo.

Then, he remembered something.

Getting the intel was not the only reason why he’d wanted to participate in this mission.

“Father,” he whispered, his voice choked as he realized what he was about to say.

Vader didn’t respond, still marching him roughly towards the ship, and Luke couldn’t decide whether he felt relieved or not--

But he wanted to know.

“I went through some old records, documents from the times of the Republic…” he began again quietly, ignoring the spark of anger he felt from his father at that mention. “And I… I found out that…”

Oh, but it was so hard to say, so hard to get past his lips…

“Was this where my mother lived?”

Everything went still, quiet as if all life was suddenly driven from the galaxy. Luke’s eyes widened, and he tugged at Vader’s grip instinctively, needing to get away and avoid the rage that swirled around Vader, stronger and stronger, ready to destroy, needing to kill--

And then it stopped.

Luke took a deep breath, trying to calm the wild fluttering in his chest. His father resumed their march, not responding - but Luke barely even noticed past the ringing in his ears. He shouldn’t have asked, shouldn’t have mentioned her, but he just wanted to know…

“Yes.”

Luke’s heart skipped a beat, the warm feeling of hope filling his chest. He had shown vulnerability, had revealed his longing, his desire to know of his parentage… and Vader had answered him. For a moment, he forgot about his current circumstances, about the fact that he was being captured by his own father. His eyes shone with a yearning for more, a desire to hear something, _anything_ that would explain where he’d come from…

But Vader didn’t say anything else. Instead, he continued marching his son down the bridge, his tight grip bruising Luke’s arm. The Sith’s mind was tightly shut; Luke couldn’t sense any emotion from his father, no matter how hard he tried.

They were almost to the landing pad now, and Luke’s uneasiness grew. He knew what was going to happen, knew his father was going to deliver him to the Emperor…

_And then Luke was going to die._

He’d been ready to die for a long time; not exactly willing, but ready nonetheless. But now… now this was happening. He had imagined this moment many times, but to be in it now, his arm in Vader’s grip, his mind already calculating the time before he would be put before the Emperor and undoubtedly killed… It just felt too soon, incomplete. There were still other things he needed to do; the Alliance needed his help, and he wished he could reestablish the Jedi Order…

But most of all, he didn’t want to disappoint the little boy on Tatooine who dreamed of meeting his family.

Vader’s breathing was loud, _way too loud_ \- but Luke didn’t hear it. His mind was somewhere else, lost among the memories of the past few weeks. _Your mother is buried on Naboo_ , Mon Mothma had told him, and now, as he looked around, he remembered that he had...--

“Can we see her before we go?”

His voice was but a whisper, shaking with the emotions he was trying so hard to hide. Unable to even look at his father, he twisted his head to the side, avoiding Vader’s gaze.

Vader shouldn’t have agreed. He had never shown any compassion for his son; in fact, he had never done anything but hurt him before.

And yet… he could feel Vader’s mind soften, as if this bare request, a silent whisper of a son who just wanted to know where he came from had somehow penetrated the dark armor of his father’s suit and soul.

There was a long exhale coming from Vader, sounding almost like a sigh, and then--

“We may.”

Something joyous filled Luke’s heart, mixed with so much grief and pain that he could barely stand it… But then, he concentrated on his father’s hand around his arm, the warmth that seeped through the dark, leather gloves, and slowly allowed himself to calm down.

They walked in silence. Vader’s strides were wide, too wide for Luke to follow without exertion, but it didn’t matter. His skin was cold where the metal cuffs were touching it; he didn’t feel that either. His heart was beating widely, joyous anticipation mixed with fear of seeing the place where his mother rested, feeling the presence of the woman who had loved him…

Or, so he had hoped during those many sleepless nights after Bespin, tossing and turning as his mind was plagued with questions of how he ever came to existence. For his whole life, he’d hoped his parents had wanted him, but now… now he knew he’d probably been unexpected.

_A mistake._

Luke shook his head, trying to keep those thoughts from his mind. There was no point wondering whether he’d been wanted; it didn’t matter now. He couldn’t change the past, even if he desperately wanted to. What he _could_ do was to pay respects to the woman who had given his life. Luke had never met her, but he _did_ love her, and that was enough.

Beside him, Vader was walking quietly, his heavy steps resounding around them as they stepped onto a stone staircase. At the top of it was the mausoleum; his father didn’t say anything as they reached it. Instead, he just stood at the entrance, quietly, allowing a few cycles of his respirator to pass.

Then, slowly, he unwrapped his gloved hand from Luke’s arm. There was a small gesture directed at his hands, and then the cuffs opened, falling to the ground.

Luke didn’t move at first. His body was frozen with indecision, unable to move neither forward nor backward. His mother was there, right in front of him, and all he had to do was step inside, to allow himself to be engulfed by the peace…

...pain, fear, and regret…

...that hung in the mausoleum’s air.

But he couldn’t.

He startled as he felt his father lay a heavy hand on his back and gently nudge him inside.

“I am with you.”

Had Vader said those words in any other circumstances, Luke would have been afraid. But now, as he stood in front of the place of his mother’s burial, unable to calm his emotions, with his heart beating so widely in his chest…

...it was the greatest comfort he could imagine.

He didn’t have it in him to respond. Instead, he just nodded, letting his gratitude flow across their bond.

And then, he slowly stepped inside.

The mausoleum was spacious and richly decorated. Two white marble columns stood at either side of a large mosaic; beautiful, red flowers lay at their top. Subconsciously, Luke wondered who had made sure that the flowers were always kept fresh, wondered whether it was his father who would come here ever so often and replace them.

Slowly, his attention shifted to the white casket in the middle of the room.

Luke was unaware of his body as his feet carried him forward, as his hand involuntary reached out to touch the marble stone. His fingers gently grazed the casket, and he could feel the Force whisper to him gently as he did so, sending waves of calm reassurance and love.

This was… this was what his mother had felt like.

Kind, so very kind… but sad.

He pulled his hand away, suddenly no longer able to bear the touch of the cold marble underneath. He took a step back, his eyes never leaving the coffin, his breathing too loud in the quiet space. There was a sound behind him, a sound of heavy steps, and then a heavy hand settled on his shoulder. His father’s gloved fingers tightened in a reassuring squeeze, a wave of comfort and reassurance nudging at his mind, and it was already too much.

Tears spilled from Luke’s eyes and he squeezed them shut hard, trying to silence the sobs that were threatening to escape him. Not thinking, not caring about what was going to happen, he turned his head to the side, seeking the warmth of his father’s comforting presence.

And he found it.

Luke’s cheek was suddenly pressed against Vader’s chest, a gloved hand cupping the other side of his face lightly. He could feel his father’s fingers on his skin, could feel him slowly, _oh so slowly_ slide them up and down his cheek in what felt like a caress. He whimpered, no longer able to contain his emotions, to fight the grief for his mother and his father’s gentle touch. Quiet, choked sobs escaped his throat, tears wetting the front of Vader’s suit…

...but it didn’t matter.

His arms wrapped around his father’s abdomen, fingers digging into the Sith’s back in a desperate attempt to ground himself. The hand touching his face shifted, and Luke felt himself being repositioned, turned so that his chest was pressed against Vader’s own. He allowed his father to move him, to adjust his position as he pleased, his eyes still squeezed shut against the black armor.

And then the hands were back, one running through his hair and the other rubbing at his back, _up and down, up and down,_ until Luke had stopped trembling against the armoured chest.

Eventually, Vader’s tight grip slackened as he felt his son calm down. Slowly, very slowly, Luke pushed himself away from Vader. He held his head low, not wanting his father to see his tears, his red cheeks, and the puffy circles around his eyes. The Sith didn’t stop him; he simply stood quietly as Luke walked away from him and turned to lean against the tomb.

“Thank you for bringing me here, father,” he whispered in a watery voice. A surge of emotion flashed from Vader at that - grief, guilt, and underneath that, _kindness._

“She would have wanted you here,” his father replied quietly. “And you… deserve to know your mother.”

Luke looked up at that, his heart skipping a beat upon hearing that word come from Vader. Slowly, he turned in his father’s direction, ignoring the fact that the Sith could now perfectly see his tears.

“Mother,” he echoed, a watery smile stretching his lips. The word, uttered in the silence of the tomb, felt right. No longer was it a quiet plea of a son who begged his father to tell him where he came from, a word filled with more emotion than Luke could process. Now, it was merely an expression of acceptance, a symbol of… _unity_ between father and son.

There was a rustle as Vader stepped closer, so close that Luke could feel the air coming from the mask on his skin.

This time, he wasn’t afraid.

“You look so much like her,” his father said quietly, and Luke closed his eyes once more, afraid of breaking down once again. “Though you take much more after me in that matter.”

A small chuckle escaped Luke’s lips. “Mon Mothma used to say that.”

He looked up, sending his father a small smile. “She said I have Anakin’s eyes.”

His father was silent for a moment, but there was no anger coming from him, contrary to what Luke had expected. Then, he raised his hands and placed them on both of his son’s shoulders.

“You do. But that look of determination you have in them… that’s hers.”

Luke’s chin quivered as grief and sorrow filled his eyes. Yoda had told him attachments were forbidden, and it felt wrong to mourn a mother he had never known. And yet… it was impossible not to care, not when he’d spent his whole life trying to make his parents proud, wishing that one day he could learn the truth of who he was and where he’d come from.

He realized he’d been openly projecting his emotions only when he felt one of Vader’s hands reassuringly squeeze his shoulder. “You are allowed to mourn her, my son. There is no weakness in that.”

“I know,” Luke whispered. “It’s just that…”

He paused, his voice suddenly dying on his lips. He waited for a moment, listening to the sound of his father’s respirator, trying to fight his grief. Then:

“I have no memory of her.”

If Vader’s face was not hidden by a mask, Luke was certain he would be able to see the anger forming on his father’s face.

Anger at _himself_.

“You should have been raised by her. You should have known her,” he heard Vader say, but the words were not directed at him. Guilt and self-loathing flew across their bond, so strong that Luke had to brace himself against the onslaught of emotion from his father. And yet, he did not push them away, did not block them from his mind. His father had accepted the pain his son had carried ever since he was a child; it was time for Luke to do the same.

“She… couldn’t be saved,” he said carefully, approaching his father who had now turned away. “Mon Mothma said she died in childbirth.”

Vader’s body froze at that and instinctively, Luke took a step back, expecting anger. But his father merely turned around, looking at his son with what Luke could feel was sorrow.

“If she died in childbirth, then it means…” The Dark Lord paused, looking away. Luke blinked, confused.

And then:

“It is… _your birthday_.”

Luke almost flinched again, taken aback. It was-- it was true - he’d been born on Empire Day - but he’d never given it much thought. Truth be told, he’d never really celebrated it. Such events were a luxury on Tatooine; there was always too much work and never enough time to really acknowledge it. His Aunt would bake his favorite pie for the first ten years of his life; Luke remembered the way they would eat it, hiding behind the homestead so that Uncle Owen would not find them. _He will eat the whole pie if he finds out_ , his Aunt would tell him, and they would both laugh joyfully, excited by the secret that they both shared. Only later would Luke learn that it wasn’t the reason why Beru didn’t want Owen to know. His uncle had caught them on his tenth birthday and _he had been furious_. _You’re spoiling him, Beru,_ he had screamed, not listening to Luke who had been frantically pleading with him to stop.

There were no pies in the years to follow.

And now, hearing the father he’d thought dead notice such a trivial thing as his birthday--

He couldn’t respond.

But Vader didn’t seem to notice.

“My son. My grown-up son.”

And why did Luke feel like Vader had heard those very words before?

His father looked at him for a long, drawn-out moment, as if wanting to remember every detail of Luke’s face. Then, the helmet turned away.

_“Go.”_

Luke frowned, disoriented. “What?”

“Go,” his father repeated. “You have to leave before the Emperor learns of your presence here.”

“But--” Luke protested, his voice barely audible as his throat constricted with sudden unease. “You’re--”

“I’m letting you go,” his father responded, still not looking at him. “You have to leave.”

Luke opened his mouth, too confused to even decide what to say. But then, gratitude-filled his mind as he realized what his father was doing.

Perhaps he had just saved Luke’s life.

“Thank you,” he whispered, fresh tears filling his eyes. His lips twitched, wanting to say more - but there was nothing else he could say. Vader stayed silent; a few minutes passed before Luke finally turned away, understanding that it was time to go.

He was almost to the mausoleum’s exit when he heard his father speak softly. “Wait.”

He turned around, hope filling his eyes. He didn’t know why didn’t know what he could possibly hope for… but he didn’t want to leave. Not yet.

There was something in Vader’s hand now; a _necklace_ , Luke realized. It was a wooden snippet, dangling on a piece of thick cord, with dark symbols carved onto its surface.

His father looked at him, his hand stretched out in Luke’s direction. _“Come.”_

He obeyed, walking to Vader slowly. Somewhere, at the back of his mind, he registered what was happening - that his father was trying to give him a _gift_. He stiffened upon the realization, his mind suddenly numb, and distantly, Luke understood that it was his body trying to control the onslaught of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him.

**His father. His dead, no not dead father. Giving him--**

**Him, his son--**

**… a gift**

A gloved hand lifted the snippet, making it dangle right in front of Luke’s face.

“This belonged to your mother. I had carved it for her as a child,” he heard Vader say, and then, in one swift motion, he put it around his son’s neck.

Luke could only stare with numbness.

“It belongs to you now,” his father continued, his fingers gently brushing against the back of his son’s neck. “So that you always remember that your parents… love you.”

And then the numbness broke, and he reached out for Vader’s hand with a cry, pressing it against his own cheek. The touch felt soft and warm, just as the gentle embrace of the necklace around his neck, and he couldn’t help but whisper--

“I’ve yearned for this moment my _whole life._ ”

He gave a watery laugh as he felt a gloved finger wipe the tears from his cheek.

“ _My son_ ,” Vader said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

“No,” Luke whispered at that. “Don’t be sorry. This is… this is the happiest moment of my life.”

And it was. All those times when he’d cried for his dead father, all those days he couldn’t even _think_ because the knowledge of his parentage was crushing him…

...it had all led to this.

He finally had his family back.

There was a sudden sense of warmth filling his mind, a kind, a female voice whispering comforting things into his ear.

_I’m so proud of you, Luke, so proud._

“The happiest moment of my life,” he repeated, pressing his cheek further against his father’s hand.

The leather glove caressed his skin again.

“And mine,” the man whispered. “Believe me, my son. _And mine._ ”

~fin~

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you enjoyed it, Sev! HAPPY LV DAY!


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